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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744211">Too Much Rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_rita/pseuds/lovely_rita'>lovely_rita</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff, Heart Conditions, M/M, Mentions of Death, Non-Explicit Sex, References to Depression, Strangers to Lovers, WW2 AU, both of them need hugs, here have lots of angst, i tried to make this pure fluff but guess how that turned out, mention of war</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:27:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_rita/pseuds/lovely_rita</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His mother always used to say that if it rained then the sun was only hiding, and it would soon be back out to cast a shadow on what once was.<br/>And yet as Paul stands here, the street flooding past his boots as he dredges through Liverpool, he can’t find a way to think that this will be better by tomorrow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Lennon/Paul McCartney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Too Much Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, I've been planning this fic for weeks, and it's been sitting in my drafts for over a week, so here it is finally!<br/>Please let me know what you think &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
<p>*TRIGGER WARNINGS*<br/>There some talking about death and war so if that triggers you, please do not keep reading!!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s raining.</p>
<p>His mother always used to say that if it rained then the sun was only hiding, and it would soon be back out to cast a shadow on what once was. And yet as Paul stands here, the street flooding past his boots as he dredges through Liverpool, he can’t find a way to think that this will be better by tomorrow.</p>
<p>The sky has been dim for days now, and most of his neighbours have moved away, out of the battlefield and into the country-side or a shelter where they’ll be safe. The rain is soaking through his jacket as he unlocks the front door, and he sighs, the icy air sending his breath away in bursts of fragile white as he steps into the hallway, his bags dumped to the floor. He shuts the door, the rain muffled by the heavy wood, though it still manages to rattle the windows, before he peels off his boots, his socks wet-through and his toes numb. He lets himself breathe for a second, letting his nerves accumulate familiar surroundings that feel like home, a place he’s not been since he was sent away for training. He begins to pad his way to the shower knowing he doesn’t have long until George gets here.</p>
<p>He doesn’t have long at all.</p>
<p>The house feels cold, even as he stands under the spray of the hot shower because what was once filled with people is now empty. He misses them; his dad, his brother, his <em>mother</em>. He knows his dad has taken Mike to their aunt’s house, but he’s not heard a word since, and he just hopes to god they made it there okay.</p>
<p>By the time George knocks he’s finished getting dressed into his uniform, dark green brushed against pale skin, and he opens the door to see George the same, though his collar is slightly twisted and his hair is frazzled compared to the way Paul’s hair has been combed back neatly.</p>
<p>“Okay?”</p>
<p>George’s voice is rough, his eyes reddened slightly around the edges. Paul suspects he probably looks the same so doesn’t comment on it.</p>
<p>“ ’m gear,” Paul replies, sarcasm lining his lips, but it still manages to elicit a small laugh from George, though it’s valid and flat. The younger boy looks almost frightened, standing there in his army uniform that’s two sizes too big, and it makes Paul refrain from saying anything else because it reminds him that George is only just of age. He’s only still a kid. And Paul knows full well that if George’s birthday had been at the end of the year then he wouldn’t be standing with his skin ashen and his hopes shattered.</p>
<p>Paul steps out of the house before locking the door, glad the rain has now stopped, though it paints the streets as being more halted, no sign of life for a mile. The puddles splash under their feet, echoing off the sides of the debris that used to be houses, scattered across the streets like a devastating impression. Paul hops over the rubble, eyes scouring the ground, landing on what must have been a picture frame of a family that had gotten away in time. He looks up to see George staring back at him, standing off a little at the height of the wreckage.</p>
<p>“What do ya think it will be like?” George says, eyes moving now to gaze at the lost belongings. Paul takes a shuddering breath, kicking a piece of shrapnel with his boot.</p>
<p>“Don’t know. I can’t predict the future, can I?”</p>
<p>He knows his mouth’s turned sour, words spat with fear that’s morphed into resent, and so he’s not surprised when George looks back at him with bewilderment. Paul sighs deeply before stepping forward, shoulder to shoulder with George, who’s gaze has found its way back to the floor.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, George,” he says, softer now, because there’s nothing else he can say to comfort him. George just nods at him before they carry on walking, the sky getting darker with every step until they’re outside the pub.</p>
<p>The neon sign casts a scarlet glare on their skin, hands painted red before they move into the bar, the music and talking slamming them in the chest. It seems George finds his friends immediately, and Paul follows him in a slow daze, passing groups of soldiers like himself that give him a knowing smile.</p>
<p>It’s their last night of normality.</p>
<p>He slides into the booth next to George, who’s started to eagerly chat to a guy to his left. Said guy turns to Paul with a small smile, holding his hand out.</p>
<p>“Starkey,” he says, voice low and matured. He’s obviously older than both George and Paul, his hair lined with a steak of grey and his cheeks brushed with short stubble. His chest and lapels lined with badges and medals, eyes shadowed with past violence. It seems Paul’s in the presence of a senior officer, and he takes his hand with quivering fingers, giving a feigned smile back.</p>
<p>“McCartney,” Paul replies with a deep shake of their hands before he pulls away, shifting in his seat as George bursts back into conversation. Paul can’t listen to him, it seems everything is blaring, every clink of a glass and the laugh of a joyful crowd. It grates on him so that he fidgets, hands moving to rub up and down his knees subtly, the sweat clinging to his fingers.</p>
<p>He only stands another five minutes, watching George’s friends hand around a few drinks, before he slides out of the seat, George halting his conversation to look up at him curiously.</p>
<p>“Jus’ gonna get a drink.”</p>
<p>George squints but nods at him, and Paul feels his eyes on him until he’s disappeared to the bar.</p>
<p>He grabs a stool, letting his elbows press into the wooden counter, bowing his head as he lets his hands rake over his hair. He’s so preoccupied at getting his breathing back together that he nearly misses the voice from above him.</p>
<p>“Looks like ya need a drink.”</p>
<p>Paul looks up to see a man about his age, red hair cut above his eyes, and a smile that makes Paul hiccup. The top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, and Paul has to avert his eyes from staring at the man’s chest.</p>
<p>“Ta,” Paul says, though it sounds raw, jolted with emotion Paul was sure he’d swept under the rug. As he watches the man pour his drink, he pulls a pack out of his pocket and lights a ciggy, letting himself inhale heavily as his eyes slide close.</p>
<p>He opens them again when he hears the glass hit the counter, and the man stops to stand in front of him, the smirk still smothering his face.</p>
<p>“Tough night?”</p>
<p>Paul laughs, tapping the excess ash from his cigarette into the ashtray beside him.</p>
<p>“Understatement.”</p>
<p>The man lets a slight chuckle out of his nose, eyebrows rising up slightly in a sort of understanding. The man seems to settle Paul’s nerves, and he lets himself calm at the sound of his voice, sucking on the ciggy steadily.</p>
<p>“What’s yer name?”</p>
<p>Paul blows the smoke through his mouth, ringlets of foggy white he creates to impress moving across the bar at an inclination away from the barman, who angles an eyebrow, expression smug.</p>
<p>“Paul,” he says, hand circling the glass, lip twitching, and he lifts his eyebrows as a cue for the barman to answer in turn.</p>
<p>“John,” he replies, his body close to the counter as he leans against the wood.</p>
<p>“When are ya heading off then?”</p>
<p>Paul watches as John’s eyes flick down over his uniform, gaze tracing the khaki covering his skin.</p>
<p>“Tomorrow,” Paul says, watching as the man hums, leaning back onto his haunches to look at Paul’s face from the same height.</p>
<p>“You scared?”</p>
<p>Well, Paul wasn’t exactly expecting that question, and no one has ever stopped to ask him. Hell, he’s never even stopped to think about that himself. His mind stutters and his fingers turn numb.</p>
<p>“Nah. It’s fine. I’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>John stares at him for a second, eyes slightly squinted, trying to suss him out in a way that leaves Paul wondering who he was trying to reassure. The icy feeling bleeds into his veins, pricking his skin from the inside as he frowns back at John, unaware that someone’s sat down beside him until he’s jolted to the side slightly, the ciggy singeing the end of his fingers eliciting a small gasp from between his lips.</p>
<p>When he looks back up, John’s still looking at him, though the smile he wears bears witness to Paul’s mask slipping, eyes creased in unyielding sympathy.  </p>
<p>“Sure,” John says, voice slightly tight before his expression shifts. “You ‘ere alone?”</p>
<p>Paul smiles, lifting the ciggy to his mouth before replying “Maybe.”</p>
<p>John’s lips quirk, eyes dark with something between lust and longing, and Paul finds himself gulping, fingers shaking a little as he takes a drag of his ciggy.</p>
<p>“Well,” John says, leaning over the bar slightly on his elbows, breath warm against Paul’s face. “If ya need some company, I wouldn’t mind joining ya.”</p>
<p>Paul smirks at the underlying double entendre of John’s words, tapping his cigarette in the ashtray beside him with a small laugh.</p>
<p>“Well, I might take ya up on that offer, John.”</p>
<p>John smiles at him, genuine now, before his attention is snapped away, the guy next to Paul ordering a beer that sends John to the other end of the bar.</p>
<p>Paul honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He flounders slightly, sat on the dingy bar stool, because what happens if he’s got this all wrong? He supposes John’s words could only mean one thing, but he also doesn’t want to land on the wrong idea and end up in jail before he’s even left for France. His chest splutters with a deep breath, and he takes one last puff of his cigarette before he stubs it out in the ashtray by his elbow. His other hand brings his glass up, fine-tuned whiskey hitting his lips, spine bent like a snapped string.</p>
<p>It doesn’t take long for John to come back, but instead of the conversation carrying on, he slips a piece of paper discreetly into Paul’s hand before he’s off again, filling another person’s glass.</p>
<p>Paul blinks before he unfolds the paper into his lap, curious eyes kept away from the writing scribbled across the paper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>‘</em> <em>I finish at 8. </em></p>
<p><em>If you want to you can meet me at the back door.</em> <em>’</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Paul lifts his eyes, locking them with John from where he’s stood at the bar, a few people away.</p>
<p>John looks nervous, almost scared, and Paul can’t blame him. He smiles with a short nod, earning a wide smile in response followed by John tapping his watch before turning away. Paul smirks to himself, downing the rest of his liquor before leaving the bar, footsteps leading him back to George, still huddled in the corner of the room by the radio.</p>
<p>“Hey,” George shouts, his voice dripping with alcohol, and Paul laughs before squeezing into the booth next to him. “Where’ve you been?”</p>
<p>“Jus’ at the bar gettin’ a drink,” Paul replies, laughing at the slight grimace Starkey gives from beside George when the younger man downs another glass.</p>
<p>“Anyway, I’m gonna head back. ‘M tired.”</p>
<p>Starkey shoots him a curious gaze but George buts in before he can say anything, voice deafening in Paul’s ear.</p>
<p>“’K Paul. I’ll see ya tomorrow then?”</p>
<p>He’s got an arm hooked around Paul’s shoulder, squeezing tightly, and Paul laughs before prying George’s fingers off of his uniform.</p>
<p>“Tomorrow, George,” he says, hoping the unfamiliar tang of unease is covered with his smile. George pats him, and Starkey flashes a smile before Paul excuses himself, rising from the booth before walking through the crowded bar towards the door.</p>
<p>His eyes flick towards the clock. <em>Two minutes.</em> He supposes John’s shift must be finishing now, and so leaves the pub, quietly heading towards the back door, boots landing heavily on the gravel.</p>
<p>By the time he’s there, John already outside lighting a ciggy.</p>
<p>“Want one?” John asks before he lights one and hands it to Paul, who thanks him quietly.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t sure if ya were gonna come,” John says, before his mouth closes around the end of the cigarette, eyes trained on Paul.</p>
<p>“Wasn’t sure you were gonna show,” Paul replies as he takes a drag, earning half a scoff from John, and Paul smiles, blowing the smoke out of his nose.</p>
<p>They start walking, out of the way of the street lights until they get to, what must be, John’s house. It’s not huge, but it looks snug, and Paul lets himself be lead in gladly, John’s hands feeling oddly familiar against his own.</p>
<p>It seems John doesn’t want to waste any time, for as soon as he shuts the door, he turns to Paul, pupils blown and lips parted.</p>
<p>“Can I kiss you?” he says, whispered into the partial darkness between them.</p>
<p>“You fuckin’ better,” Paul replies before John’s leaning forward, seizing him a kiss that sucks the breath from Paul’s chest.</p>
<p>Paul starts to fumble with the buttons of John’s shirt, and as soon as he’s got it open, John pulls away breathlessly.</p>
<p>“Upstairs.”</p>
<p>Paul nods, letting himself be lead by John’s hand up to the bedroom where he’s instantly cornered into the wall, John pushing their mouths back together.</p>
<p>John’s hands are everywhere, fingers grazing harshly against his skin. Paul licks into his mouth as he presses forward, hands moving over John’s chest, feeling the heat sear at his skin. Paul can feel the coldness of the wall dig into his back, and he’s thankful of the stability when John pushes him backwards, hips pressed together as his lips pull away, tightened in a low moan that leaves Paul breathless. Paul rolls his hips in response and John smirks, diving back in for another kiss as Paul’s hands move upwards to twist in his hair.</p>
<p>It’s not long before they’re in bed, John splayed underneath him as he thrusts gently, the moans coming from both of them entwining into a mantra of passion. The sex is quick, and soon Paul lets himself fall against John’s chest, panting harshly before he pulls out and rolls away, hearing John whimper slightly at the lack of closeness.</p>
<p>Paul gives himself a minute, his head starting to unblur and turn back into a ticking clock before he looks back up at John who’s eyes are closed, a small smile pulling his face as the sweat paints his cheeks.</p>
<p>He moves quietly, hesitantly resting his head against John’s chest, tucking himself into John’s side. He wonders if John’s going to push him away or fall asleep, but the thought is brief when John’s hand moves to snake itself through Paul’s hair.</p>
<p>Paul hums quietly, letting his body finally be tempted into relaxation, John’s presence lulling him into a state of ease.</p>
<p>He thinks this must be the last time he’s ever going to be so close to someone, the last time he’ll even be able to feel comforted. He feels silly when tears prick at his eyes, and he pushes his face further against John’s chest, causing the older man to stir.</p>
<p>“You alright?”</p>
<p>Paul sniffs, laugh wet as he presses himself further into John’s side, feeling John’s hand circle to rest on his hip, legs tangled so that his toes skate John’s inner ankle.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p>It’s silent between them again, and Paul lets his fingers trail over John’s skin, letting himself become familiar as John’s hand strokes his hair softly.</p>
<p>“Why haven’t you been sent off yet?” Paul asks, voice quiet as his fingers continue to glide over pale skin, wondering if maybe John’s not too far behind him. That maybe they’ll be a chance to see each other again, even if it’s amongst guns and debris.</p>
<p>John stills for a second, fingers coming to rest in the dip of Paul’s hip. At the sudden silence, Paul looks up, watching John’s face flicker with an emotion Paul can only identify as guilt.</p>
<p>“’M not going.”</p>
<p>It sounds thick on John’s tongue and Paul turns in his grasp, sitting up on his elbows to look at his face better. Paul slides his hand up John’s chest, sculpts it across the outline of his jaw, fingers feeling the brush of day-old stubble.</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>John sighs, turning his head to face him now, and he gives a small smile, though it’s pained, like it’s stitched at the edges, pulling it taught.</p>
<p>“Heart murmur.”</p>
<p>Paul doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or empathetic.</p>
<p>“Oh,” is all he says, and John makes a defeatist noise from his throat before he settles down again, pulling Paul back down into his previous position. His hands feel nice in Paul’s hair, gently raking through the dark strands, and it makes Paul’s chest stutter because when has anyone ever held him this way? When has anyone been so consciously honest with him that it makes him shake with a need for more?</p>
<p>When will he ever get anything like this again?</p>
<p>“God I wish I could go,” John says and it makes Paul’s skin prickle, though he doesn’t move his face away from where he’s pressed it against John’s collarbone.</p>
<p>“No, you don’t. Don’t wish for things like that.”</p>
<p>Paul can tell he sounds bitter but even when John’s hand lifts away, he can’t seek out an apology when he knows that John shouldn’t be wishing for things like that.</p>
<p>There’s silence between them for a minute, and Paul can slowly start to feel the anxiety rip at his chest, pressing on his lungs, and for a moment he feels like he’s already gone, already shipped away to a strange land he knows he won’t come home from.</p>
<p>“Paul-”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to go.”</p>
<p>It’s out of his mouth before he can even think, and he feels stupid at the way his eyes blur and his throat thickens. John moves, trying to get Paul to face him but the younger man won’t. The humiliation beats at him, and yet he can’t help but let himself go, let the ship tide away his grief of a life he’ll never get to live.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to die, Johnny,” he breaths, and he feels John’s chest rattle beneath him before he’s being pulled upwards, both of them sitting up. Paul lets himself be manhandled into a straddling position across John’s hips before he’s pulled back against the firm chest like a rag doll, only for the seal to finally break, and he finds himself whimpering into the crook of John’s neck.</p>
<p>“I know,” is all John says, and Paul knows that’s the only answer he can give. He can’t promise him a life when it’s not in his hands.</p>
<p>The time passes bittersweetly before Paul’s tears bind against John’s, pulling them both into a blind kiss that has Paul’s hips rocking, John’s hands fumbling at his waist.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Paul whispers, breath hot against the skin of John’s lips, and John moves to look at him, chest heaving slightly.</p>
<p>“For what?”</p>
<p>“You’ve not even known me for twenty-four hours, and here I am crying on yer shoulder,” Paul replies with a quiet laugh, and yet John only smiles back, pulling him back into a kiss.</p>
<p>“I don’t care. I don’t know what it is about you but…”</p>
<p>He trails off, and Paul lets his gaze wander to John’s eyes. They’re practically touching noses, and they’re so close their skin is starting to stick with sweat.</p>
<p>“I want you, Paul. I like ya, an’ I don’t know what it is but I don’t want to let you go.”</p>
<p>Paul knows it’s all too quick, but he can’t help but find himself agreeing. He can feel the spark between them, pressing them together like a moth to a flame.</p>
<p>Paul pulls him into another kiss, gentler now, the lust starting to slowly fade into desire. But not desire for sex, no, desire for closeness. Paul realises this is what he’d wanted all along. And yet he’s found it on the only night where the events will only be pressed as memories.</p>
<p>“I have to go though, John.”</p>
<p>John nods against him, sniffling quietly to pepper his jaw in kisses.</p>
<p>“I can write to ya,” John says, but Paul only laughs, making John pull away to meet his eyes.</p>
<p>“An’ what happens when ya find out ya don’t like me like ya thought you did? Or you find a girl?”</p>
<p>John shakes his head violently, but Paul stills him with hands to both of his cheeks. John’s got despondency simmering in his eyes and promises he doesn’t know if he can keep written on his lips.</p>
<p>“An’ what happens when I die, John? What then?”</p>
<p>“You won’t,” John says abruptly, voice croaky and raw that it causes Paul to inhale sharply. “You won’t die.”</p>
<p>Paul doesn’t want to argue with him, so he captures him in another soft kiss, exploring his mouth like a new adventure and a last memory.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna write to ya,” John says as his lips pull away, hands moving to tuck themselves at the slope of Paul’s spine, eyes shining with a sense of honesty.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna write to ya, and yer gonna write back until ya get home,” he continues, quickly moving to kiss away the exasperated look on Paul’s face.</p>
<p>“Because you will come home. An’ then I’m gonna see ya an’ kiss ya an’ tell ya how much I’ve missed you.”</p>
<p>“You can’t tell that,” Paul says, and John tuts, giving a smile that elicits a quiet one from Paul.</p>
<p>“No, but I’m telling you now that’s what’s going to ‘appen.”</p>
<p>Paul lets out a long breath, moving to graze his fingers over the short hairs at the nape of John’s neck, biting his lip slightly.</p>
<p>“Y’know, it doesn’t mean this has to continue if ya don’t want too, but it means I can still make sure yer alright an’-”</p>
<p>Paul stops John’s babbling, landing a kiss on his lips that sends John backwards, his back hitting the mattress as Paul settles over him.</p>
<p>“Don’t settle anythin’ now,” Paul says, smile wide as he sees John’s face, expression in the breadths between lust and sincerity.</p>
<p>“Lets jus’ have this night, and ya can wave me off tomorrow, yeah?”</p>
<p>Paul waits for John to reply, watches the slightly sorrowful shift of his face before John nods, pulling Paul by the neck down into another kiss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>— —</p>
<p>When Paul wakes up, he has a blissful few minutes of feeling the arms around his waist, the feeling of skin pushed flush against his own, and the breath hot against his neck before his brain catches up to him and he’s plunged back into reality, his stomach dropping like a rock.</p>
<p>He blinks his eyes open, sighing quietly before turning in John’s hold, eyes tracing over the sleeping man in front of him. Paul wishes he could stay like this, wrapped up in someone else’s arms, but he knows he’s only got a few hours left.</p>
<p>He doesn’t stir and instead lets himself doze in and out of sleep, John’s arms cosy around his waist.</p>
<p>When he opens his eyes again, John’s looking back at him, a small smile on his lips. Paul smiles back before leaning forward to kiss him gently, the action so slow and meaningful that Paul sighs, pressing himself further against John’s chest.</p>
<p>It’s only when they pull away that he allows himself to look at the clock, and he can feel John’s grip tighten.</p>
<p>“I’ve only got an hour.”</p>
<p>His voice is croaky, and he watches as the smile drops from John’s face, a hand moving up to trail softly across Paul’s back.</p>
<p>“Okay,” is all John says before he pulls Paul even further against him, burying his face in his neck. Paul lets his hands trace up and into John’s hair, sympathy rolling from his fingers as he pushes them lightly through the red strands.</p>
<p>They stay like that for as long as they can before the clock ticks too far forward, and Paul is soon pulling his uniform back on.</p>
<p>“I can walk ya down to the docks,” John says, shyness creeping into his reddened cheeks, and Paul nods, pulling his boots on by the front door. As soon as he stands back up he’s pulled forwards by the waist, slamming his hips into John’s before there’s a hand around the back of his neck and lips pressed against his own.</p>
<p>“What was that for?”</p>
<p>John smiles, pecking him one last time on the forehead.</p>
<p>“S’just one to take with ya.”</p>
<p>God, Paul doesn’t think he’s ever been so enamoured by anyone in his life.</p>
<p>They trek down to the docks in near silence, fingers itching to meet, but they only let themselves pass cautious smiles.</p>
<p>George is on the outside of the crowd, and he jogs over to them, his lips curved upwards slightly. His face is still pale though; fresh youth marred with haunts of future passings, pale with the thought of leaving into a world of murder and violence. It makes Paul feel sick. He lets himself be pulled into a side hug, before the speaker is heard, calling them all to board the ship.</p>
<p>“You comin’?” George asks, eyes flickering over the masses of crowds disappearing into the large ship.</p>
<p>“I’ll meet ya on board,” Paul says, glad when George nods before moving towards the queue for the boat.</p>
<p>“Write to me,” Paul says, desperate now, watching as John’s face morphs into despondency.</p>
<p>“I will, Paul,” John replies, moving to discreetly take Paul’s hand. It’s squeezed hard, and Paul knows it’s as close as they’re going to get.</p>
<p>Paul gives one last final smile, letting himself take one last mental image of John before he pulls away, leaving John to disappear into the crowds.</p>
<p>Paul doesn’t know if he’s ever going to come home. But he knows that if he does, there’ll always be John waiting for him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading :)<br/>Please please please let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated &lt;3<br/>You can find me on Tumblr @lovely-rita-meter-maidd, and you can send in an ask request or let me know what you think.<br/>Thank you for reading, stay safe &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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